


the jewel i'd like to steal

by sundrymunity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Body Worship, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundrymunity/pseuds/sundrymunity
Summary: collection of a linked story i did some time ago and never posted.short story is goro akechi is a royal knight beneath a crown he wants on his head rather than just aligned to it who incidentally befriends a thief striking terror into the hearts of the noble class, akira kurusu. they fall in love as their similar paths lead them parallel to one another, but remain apart as their different approaches collide.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	1. pretty faces on parade

The stranger’s moves are fluid and familiar as he dances across the floor with any who catch his eye, his gloved hand, and Goro watches him out of duty – _duty_ , nothing else – on account of the string of burglaries and scams that’ve become a frequent part of the nobles’ daily lives. The masquerade is supposed to be a leisurely event filled with secret trysts and the adventure of the unknown, the anonymous, the unexplored… and as a royal knight, it was only proper that he sit out of the festivities, the keen of his eye undeterred by the uncomfortable mask plastered across his visage.

In stark contrast to his discomfort, the stranger seems at ease; black boots clap joyously on the marbled floor with all they meet, the darkness of his fitted outfit standing out against all of the vibrant colors of the high class. His mask is plain as well, black lining adorning an otherwise white piece, and Goro tightens his hands behind his back.

He knows those moves. But he’s not sure where from.

There’s a couple of ladies who subtly ask for his participation in the event, but Goro declines with a small smile; for their protection, he must stay alert at all times. They persist a little and ultimately leave, getting swept up in the stranger’s arms as he steals them from every other hopeful suitor with an achingly familiar laugh. Free, a little deeper than you’d expect looking at his slim form, and…wild in delight.

Goro’s gaze slides reluctantly from the sight, keeping an eye on the rest of the party as required, but it always finds its way back to the stranger.

This time, the stranger’s looking back.

He’s never been so thankful for the mask that hides the flush of his cheeks, having been momentarily caught, and flicks his eyes over the crowd as if it was nothing, ignoring the _tap tap tap_ of the stranger’s steady approach, the subtle scent of saffron sliding beneath his nose. Someone who could afford a rare spice for their choice in perfumes.

“You’re doing a good job of holding up the wall,” the _voice_ is one he knows and Goro’s attention snaps back, eyes wide beneath his mask, “but you look a little lonely.”

Akira Kurusu, the thief he’d found tumbling out a window once upon a time, wounded and helpless, extends a hand.

Goro pushes away the smile threatening to betray the pleasant feeling in his chest at seeing the other again, leaning in closer to whisper beneath the music. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“Dancing.” Akira’s lips quirk up on one side, hand still out. “Come on, every other knight’s had a turn, don’t you think you deserve a little fun?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Akira knows that, and yet he still wiggles his fingers hopefully. When there’s no immediate reply, the young man shrugs lightly. “Dance with me and I’ll talk.”

Goro watches him, then flicks his eyes around the party again; there’s plenty of others on duty, the guests don’t care who’s dancing with who at the moment, so with a tentative acceptance he finds his hand gripped lightly, firmly, and pulled into the midst of the music.

The hand gripping his stays, Akira’s other sliding against the fabric at his waist and settling into the curve of his hip. Goro gives his partner a hard stare before laying his own on the other’s shoulder, white on black, and at the next beat they move together, stepping in a way that speaks more of their respective practice than anything else. Getting used to one another, if Goro were to put it poetically.

“Are your fine clothes stolen or bought?” He asks, mouth beside Akira’s ear.

The other hums, then returns the favor to Goro, warm breath tickling the inside of the shell. “Given.”

“Then you’re– _Kurusu_ ,” he hisses as he’s suddenly tugged forward, chest to chest, closer than is proper in _any_ context; Akira’s arm keeps him firmly in place, and Goro may not be able to stop the heat that sweeps through him or the thoughts brought along by the gentle swing of their hips, but he _can_ keep himself from making a scene. “You’re of a noble house?”

“Something like that,” he replies, slate eyes mesmerizing and warm at this distance. “Aren’t you?”

A shiver runs down Goro’s spine, the words more knowing than curious, and he keeps a level gaze instead of turning like he wants to. “In a sense, given that my duty is to protect those born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”

“How bitter,” Akira laughs, and follows the music everyone else does as he adds his own flair; a tight twirl here, an extra step there, always keeping Goro on his toes.

“There’s nothing bitter about it. It’s simply the truth.”

Silence reigns between them after that, the music’s jovial tone exhausting in its tempo, but bit by bit Goro finds his muscles relaxing, getting more used to predicting Akira’s next move, and he doesn’t realize they’re alone until it clicks that the music’s awfully far off now, the air cooler than it was inside, light petering out from behind Akira’s head in a golden halo instead of surrounding them. They hold each other, hearts beating at matching speeds, and Goro clears his throat as he tries to step back, trying not to feel disappointed when he’s let go without a fuss.

“Did you… want to talk about something, Kurusu?”

“Akira,” he corrects softly, moving to lean on the balcony banister. “But not really. Had to come, decided to spend time with someone I actually liked.”

_Instead of all those masks inside,_ his tone implies, and Goro nearly mirrors Akira’s position, the sole difference being that Akira’s looking out while he’s looking back in. “I didn’t realize I was to your fancy, Kuru… Akira.”

The name feels fuller in his mouth than he expects, whereas Kurusu is something airier and blown out easily. He can see Akira’s smile beside him, how he rubs the back of his head.

“I like pretty things,” almost like a confession, carefree as it is. “And who’s prettier than a crown jewel like you?”

Another sentence that sets him back on edge. Goro’s hand reaches up to his mask, fingers tracing the feathers off the sides and sequins sewn in place around the edges, the smooth velvet against his face, and finally pulls it up against his forehead, rubbing his eyes. “I’m only a knight, Akira. Not alike to any jewel you’d take.”

“I think that’s up for _me_ to decide, Goro.” Akira steps in front of him too quickly for him to react, but Goro catches the hand that tries to grip his jaw and allows the other to settle on the stone behind him, the thief’s eyes dancing with a fire his chest aches at. “And in my opinion,” he continues, stepping forward this time, fitting a leg between Goro’s own, masked gaze flicking down when the knight’s breath hitches, “you’re worth every cent in the king’s coffer.”

_I’d hope so,_ he thinks to himself, _it’s my inheritance, after all._

Or should be.

The kiss is warm and sweet, melts against his lips, and Goro allows one more thing: he drops his hold on Akira’s wrist to let the other card through his hair, mask falling somewhere in the bushes below them. In exchange, Akira lets Goro slip off his too, tilting his head for a deeper kiss.

Goro flutters his eyes open slightly to watch Akira, a pleasant feeling buzzing through him with the knowledge that they’re mutually pink in the cheeks, that Akira seems to be concentrating hard to make this feel good and natural, and feels his heart pound so hard it hurts. He whimpers softly, a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by the other; Akira gently brings him away from the stone, mistaking it as the thing digging into Goro’s back, and then they’re back to dancing once more, not a single part of them separated for long.

“I want to steal you,” Akira breathes, eyes lidded and dark.

Goro hums softly, kissing him again. “I’m not worth stealing.”

_Not yet. Not until I claim my birthright._

“Didn’t I say that was for me to decide?”

“And I say you’re wrong, Akira.” With a firmer kiss, Akira’s grip tightening in response. Goro forces their dance to come to a halt, brushing the curls from Akira’s defiant eyes, and continues softly. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook for your crimes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, letting go with some reluctance and stepping back. Goro misses the warmth already. “It’s the part I find charming about you, after all. How _passionate_ you are, even if I wish that passion wasn’t poking your nose into my business.”

Goro laughs a little, shaking his head. “At this point, Akira, it’s more like _you’re_ poking your nose into _mine_.”

The grey eyes twinkle slightly and Akira bows low, plucking his mask back up in the process. “You won’t give me the time of day any other way.”

Between everything… how could he? And yet that’s not necessarily true, either. He gave him tonight, after all, even if it took a little persuasion. Goro shakes his head again, watching the other climb lightly onto the stone railing of the balcony. A perfect balancing act.

“You’re not always going to land on your feet,” he warns, knowing Akira’ll simply laugh and take a more proper bow; he’s surprised when Akira does neither, simply smiles in a way that says _I know_ and he doesn’t like, he finds, he doesn’t like it at all. Skirting his eyes away, the party’s still in high spirits and Goro knows he should join them. At least for appearances.

He licks his lips, opening his mouth to say something–

and letting it hang when he catches the top of Akira’s head dropping down, a rose where he’d been standing. Goro clucks his tongue and picks the flower up, twirling the thornless stem with heat growing in his cheeks.

“… I would like to see it someday.” A confession to the night, leaning against the banister and wondering if Akira’s still nearby. “The kind of people you’re around, that give you the drive to be the way you are.”

Not so much the dashing charm or even the quiet desire, just… the passion, the strength in his belief that keeping the nobility on their toes the way he is is the right thing to do. That kind of thing.

He doesn’t expect an answer and he doesn’t get one. Confident that Akira’s skipped off to wherever, ditching the party completely, Goro sighs softly and twirls the rose again, watching the cool light of the moon dance shadows across the petals. He smiles, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, and then tosses it out into the darkness. Stealing him… A romantic, silly notion, but one he wasn’t completely against, if he was honest with himself.

Turning on his heel, he laments the loss of his mask and steps back inside, the warmth false as every face in the room; no one turns to greet him, to remark on his lack of a mask, and he borrows a strikingly black one from the extras laying across a table.

_Until next time, thief._


	2. pink lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crossdressing is always a plus

“It’s just like the first time we met.”

Goro chucks a shoe at Akira, grinning widely when the thief falls back off the bed. “You were head over heels for me at first sight, weren’t you.”

“And second, and third– that fourth was a little touch and go,” Akira sits up and rests his head in his arms, grinning back, “but I think it worked out.”

Goro scrunches his face and shakes his head, reaching back to finish buttoning the dress up. “You’re ridiculous.”

 _I really need to stop, too._ The thought lingers in his mind, turning his face away to reach for the last few. _Nothing good can come out of this._

Akira helps him with his hair, make up as needed, and his hands linger where they shouldn’t; Goro doesn’t protest, pretends like they’re not there at all, lets the thief trace the faux curves and what skin is left bare. He shivers at the feeling of lips brushing the nape of his neck, hands reaching out to keep Akira from leaving so soon.

“I’m only doing this one favor for you, you know,” Goro murmurs, turning around and resting his hands behind Akira’s neck, playing with the short curls there. “Only because I benefit from it too.”

“I know,” the other replies softly, eyes warm and smile fond enough that Goro feels a tremble down his spine, a phantom caress against his cheek that takes his breath away for a single moment. “I appreciate it, Goro.”

The thief draws away and settles on the bed again, crossing his heeled boots and waiting for Goro to ensure everything’s just right; a simple tiara is fitted on the crown of his head, hair carefully folded around the ringlet to keep it in place, jewels fitted against the soft jut of his collarbones, ruby red and glittering as dangerously as the eyes framed by leftover hair. Goro curls a smile at Akira from the mirror, white gloves grazing the jewels, and he asks the other where he got them.

“They’re my mother’s,” he answers, cheeks a bold red as they gaze upon him; the color deepens at the next bit, and Goro feels his face mirror the sentiment. “For the person I decide to marry.”

“They belong elsewhere,” Goro barely feels the words pass his lips, barely hears them over the thud in his chest.

Akira’s eyes dance down, across the length of his person and then back again to the jewels. “No,” he murmurs, light as a gentle sun shower, “I don’t think they do.”

The operation is covert. Goro Akechi walks with high standards and a higher tilt to his chin, displaying a swan-like neck as he passes through the room, eyes catching onto the glitz of his jewels, the gentle curve of his bosom filled out with handkerchiefs, the all-too natural gait of a woman with high breeding. Akira watches from above, sighing softly, and presses a finger to the onyx in his ear.

“Akechi’s drawing attention away. Know where the artifact is?”

“I’m looking at it right now,” Morgana replies, and Akira feels himself smirk as Goro makes it to the master of the estate, drawing a card from his bodice and whispering furtively as he presses it into the other’s hand; from the look on the noble’s face, the calling card’s been delivered and all is according to plan. “Are you still watching him?!”

“Just making sure we’re not double crossed.”

Morgana snorts lightly, but doesn’t reply; Akira steps back from the railing and drifts through the upper floor, blending with the crowds as natural as Goro had. _He’d be a real asset_ , he finds himself thinking not for the first time, not for the same reason as he did now. _It’s too bad he won’t join us._

It’s an easy steal even with knights running amok – in fact, it’s all the easier as certain areas are quartered off from the public, and Akira feels the wind whip around him as he ducks outside a window, carefully shutting it. He scales the building with confidence, peering inside every now and then to check his positioning; he looks in once and nearly falls off at a figure there, but they’re turned away, voices muffled inside. There’s the sound of a door shutting and footsteps away from the window, so Akira peeks in again.

Oh, it’s just Goro.

… It’s just Goro?

He squints, then tries the window: locked. A shame, because this is where he needs to be, so he rapts quietly on the glass; Goro turns, eyes wide for a brief moment, and he relaxes when Akira wiggles his fingers.

The window swings open above him and Akira climbs in, dusting off his clothes unnecessarily. “I didn’t expect you in here.”

“I thought you might need some assistance. Also, this is more or less a holding cell for me, since I’ve become a suspicious person on account of the calling card.”

Whoops.

Akira lightly grazes Goro’s cheek, the skin blooming pink under his glove. “Sorry,” he murmurs softly, sincerely, and the knight turns his face away.

“It’s something I expected to happen, so I didn’t bother making too much of a fuss. Don’t forget the documents I asked you to keep an eye out for, Akira.” Akira hums softly, reaching out again to play with Goro’s hair; Goro shivers a little at fingertips brushing against the nape of his neck, glaring back slightly. “ _Joker._ ”

The name startles him out of his thoughts (how pretty Goro is, how the necklace matches his eyes so well, how they belong nowhere else and neither does the boy wearing them) and he draws his hand back, nodding.

“Thanks for the help. I’ll steal you on my way out.”

Goro doesn’t have the time to make a refute, because Akira leans over and kisses him gently, lips melding onto lips with such a gentleness it makes Akira’s heart thud hard. The knight softens as well, returning it briefly, and Akira smirks lightly as he steps away, giving a small wave as he turns with a flourish and starts down the hall to the master bedroom.

Goro hates him, honestly. Or he tries to. Yet here he is, sitting in a carriage with Akira, twice-stolen jewels in the woman’s bag in his lap, documents telling incriminating tales tucked into the front of his bodice for safe keeping. Akira’s eyes remain outside, ever vigilant of pursuers, but Goro catches them with his own once or twice.

The thief’s cheeks heat with each mark of contact.

Finally, out of danger, Akira leans back and crosses his legs at his knees, settling his hands plainly upon them.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

… Fun. Goro plays with a strand of hair that’d fallen beside his face and tucks it away, nodding after a moment. “I did. It was rather exciting, though certainly not my preferred method of arresting those attempting to bend the law in their favor.”

“Good,” Akira replies, hands tight on each other as Goro feels his eyes linger at his neck. “Good,” softer, full of affection, and the words he’d been about to say catch in his throat.

It’s a quiet ride back downtown, Goro watching out the window and Akira watching Goro, but he decides he’d like it to last forever.


	3. beneath the blossoming peach tree, i wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the dirty one

As a knight, there were few things he allowed himself indulgence in; he'd have a drink every now and then with his comrades, he'd enjoy the platonic company of others if they so wished it, he'd sit on the roof of a building he'd scaled to enjoy the crisp autumn air and the stars twinkling high above. Innocent things. Calming things.

Akira Kurusu, the thief that's been terrorizing the noble class, is neither of these things.

Goro stretches his arms above his head, knowing the thief is watching his movements from another rooftop, feeling his gaze skirt the edges of his profile, and relaxes against the paneling, eyes closing just barely. He focuses his attention to sound alone and is rewarded for it; after about a minute, there's softened steps and hands grazing his cheeks fondly. Goro's eyes flutter open to the sight of Akira above him, eyes warm with something that sends shivers down his spine, and he thinks of this dangerous indulgence, of the trouble he'd get in if they were ever found.

"Good evening, Akira," he murmurs, and Akira replies the same softly, voice a touch gravelly at the effort. Goro raises his hand and places it against the other's neck, thumbing the skin just above the high collar of his disguise. Akira breathes out, hum vibrating against his hand. "Lay with me?"

To watch the stars, to pretend that they're just two young men without roles in a game played so obviously by others. Akira complies, turned towards him and propping his head up with a smile.

"If I didn't know better," Akira starts, eyes taking in everything of his companion, "I'd think that you were waiting for me."

Goro's smile quirks up and he feels mischief swell inside. "Maybe I was."

It's easy banter, conversation they've rehearsed, and the actions just the same; how Akira brushes hair out of his face, fingers ghosting across his heating skin, lingering at the back of Goro's head as Goro allows himself to be lead forward, lips soft and warm when they meet. Their relationship doesn't change their situation one bit. Goro's still going to catch him one day, and Akira will always evade that, but--

but it's nice, just to have some time to themselves, kisses slow and winding into one another. Goro shifts closer, curling his hand against Akira's neck with a pleased hum, drawing himself up when Akira does as well; they haven't stopped touching, haven't stopped kissing, breathing through their noses, so in tune with the other.

"My place?" Akira asks, knowing the answer already, and Goro laughs softly.

"Your place is never the same no matter how many times I say yes. I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps you _have_ brought me back to your home and I simply can't tell the difference in the dark."

Akira grins, kissing him again and clasping their hands together, the soft leather of his glove warm against his own bare palm. Goro knows Akira's always surprised when he's able to keep up on the rooftops, because knights generally don't take such paths; then again, Goro isn't a normal knight. He's royal in every sense of the word and he's not sure if Akira really knows or not, Goro think he might, and while it puts him on guard most of the time the night frees them of anything circumstantial, of roles and masks, just two young men whose blood sings for the other.

Tonight's haunt can't be Akira's house, because it's an old inn that welcomes their presence with such warmth and hospitality Goro wonders if business is so bad that they're on death's edge; Akira pays for a room to last the night and a little extra to keep mum about their time here, the golden discs as wide as the woman's eyes when she sees them. She swears on her life that she's never seen them before and in the same breath directs them to a room upstairs, far end on the left.

The stairs creak with age, but they hold. There's a few cobwebs the farther they go down the hall and the door sticks for a few seconds before Goro shoulders it open himself, laughing as he's pulled in and playfully pushed onto a bed that's lumpy but usable, smells distinctly of age and yet he doesn't care, his attention taken wholly by Akira as the other climbs on top of him, kissing heated and hands craving his touch.

They shed their clothes piece by piece, unequal in their complexity and amount, and Goro mutters his complaints about the strings holding Akira's together; the thief laughs and helps out, putting on a small show as the vest drops away and he tugs his shirt off slowly, the sight of his pale skin blossoming pink setting fire to Goro's veins. He traces the small bumps of his ribs, kisses the other's collarbones and feels weight settle on his shoulders, a head nuzzling against his as they fall back onto the bed together and Goro finds himself so very pleasantly trapped, the light of the moon a halo across Akira.

"Have I ever told you that you're beautiful, Akira?" Goro hears himself ask, hand grazing his cheek affectionately. It reddens beneath his touch.

"Isn't that my line, Goro? You _are_ the jewel I want to steal." Akira shifts on top of him, duel inhales at the friction, and he carefully finishes unbuttoning Goro's simple shirt. "Thanks though. I know."

The confidence makes him laugh again, stopping short with a hiss at the steady rock of their hips, electricity tingling across his skin and mind doing more than enough work with the sight of Akira above him, head tilted back in pleasure as he picks up pace, breath quickened.

"Aki--Akira," he rasps, "stop, I-- please, I want--"

"I know," Akira replies breathlessly, curling over him again and kissing him with fervor. "I know, I know," threaded between each contact of their lips, hips movement slowing agonizingly. His body is warm and malleable, always is when it comes to their trysts, and his hands smooth over the expanse of Akira's back, fitting against the jut of his waist.

They remove the last of their clothes and Goro shivers with every familiar touch, Akira's eyes hazy with desire. Goro pulls him close and kisses him, then lets him go when the lips move off his and take in his cheeks, the line of his jaw, the dip of his neck just beside his jugular; he feels his pulse thrum strong against Akira's mouth, shuddering when wetness envelopes it and unable to bite back the moan of the other's name when very deliberate sucking begins, slow and purposeful.

Akira grows harder against his leg and he leaves the mark where it is to continue his trek down, purring when Goro's hands push through his hair to make him go faster. _Don't bother with anything else,_ a quiet plea.

Which only means Akira does, pushing against his hands briefly and moving back up to map familiar paths and grooves, shoulders and collarbones, wrapping his tongue around one of his nipples and gently standing it at attention with repetition; neither of them are very into it, but it's always such a temperatural difference once Akira's mouth leaves that it's pleasure enough, and Goro presses his head back into the bed, arching up when Akira's hands keep his hips rooted to the mattress firmly.

Legs over shoulders, Akira's mouth is hot and wet and so, _so_ nice when it envelops him, slowly taking as much as he dares and then a little farther. He treats Goro like a delicacy, taking his time and thumbing circles into his hips laughter a pleasant vibration at the shudders Goro's body can't control. His fingers curl tightly into Akira's hair and he pants, head dizzying light and stuffed at the same time, and his chin hits his chest briefly before he throws back again at the sight of Akira buried around him.

His hips jerk up when the tightness becomes to much, when the heat's too intense, and he doesn't blame Akira for leaving most of the mess deposited on the bed. Goro's heart thumps painfully against the bone of his chest and he drags his lover back up, grin slow to form at the pleased hissed from the other.

"You always treat me so well," he whispers, because he knows his voice won't sound normal otherwise. "Let me do the same for you."

Akira stares at him, cum staining his lips, and he lets himself be turned onto the bed; Goro swipes off the offensive fluid and wipes it on the sheets, hand reaching back to find Akira's dick and laughing when it draws a gasp from the other.

"My, you're already about to come, aren't you? I didn't realize I had such an effect on you."

"You do," Akira's voice is a gravelly rumble, hands sliding up Goro's bared thighs lovingly; the gesture sends shivers down his spine, threatening to renew the sensitivity between his legs. "You always have."

Always, always. Goro feels something in him twist and he leans over to the end table nearby, hand groping for the small bottle of cheap oil, the only kind an inn like this can afford; nobility have sweeter smelling, smoother concoctions, but Goro doesn't like how it feels everyone _knows_ after using the strong fragrance. He pours it into hand, reaching back to coat Akira's cock in it, taking his time in exploring the veins and folds, grinning down at the contortion of the other's face.

Torturous.

"I hope you'll be able to survive the first push, Akira," he breathes, "I'd like to feel you in me when you come this time."

"I'd be able to if you weren't so damn _tedious_ ," the other grumbles, but it's fond and Goro knows he loves the slow motions, loves his careful he is to slick every inch. He loves watch Goro prepare himself too, but Goro kisses him while he does so this time; his breath fans against Akira's face every time he has to part for air, nuzzling the other and complimenting his willingness to wait, his patience and admitting, softer than every word before, how much he likes Akira, how much he adores and looks forward to seeing him.

Akira's expression is a perfect picture of pained affection and Goro smiles apologetically for the display, the hollowness he feels slowly filled with Akira as he presses down, biting into the meat of his hand to keep from making a sound; his body has tells, shudders and shakes and they rest they adjust, before Goro leans over him and pulls his hips up.

The rhythm is easy and nice. It's one he controls, though he's always caught off guard when Akira's impatience grows and there's a jerk up, breaking pace for something faster, needier, and Goro doesn't mind being dragged down by the hair to share in more kisses as his pace speeds up, the sound of skin on skin louder than their contentment with each other.

Even if they could, they never needed to shout to the world about their feelings. It's enough to share it like this, with warm kisses, with love in every bite and suck of lips between teeth. Goro's intoxicated by Akira's affections and, in return, Akira is addicted to the different side Goro only shows him.

Akira jerks up against him when he comes and Goro makes a face once the momentary bliss of heat fades, realizing the mess is mostly on him this time and he's more or less sitting in the spill. But it's nice. It's so nice, and Goro lays down to kiss Akira some more, hands carding through the black curls affectionately.

"Stay?" Akira asks, soft and sleepy. Goro hums softly and nods. The thief wraps his arms around him, breathing in deeply as he nuzzles into Goro's hair. There's unspoken words lingering between them, heavy and true, but Goro gives them no voice and Akira lets them stay silent too.

 _I love you_ is a little much for them right now. But it's a shared sentiment, and Goro shows it in how he fetches a damp cloth to clean them up with, letting it fall into Akira's lightly calloused hands when asked and allowing him to finish up, shivering at the gentle care.

The sheets are ruined, but neither of them care right now. They're warm and pressed together, Goro's head tucked under Akira's chin and arms wrapped around the thief's waist; Akira has his own firmly around Goro's shoulders, breath tickling the crown of his head.

One day. Not today, not in a week or a month or a year, but-- one day.


End file.
